“So say yes.”

“No. Ahha.” She actually felt her body shake from the gentle pressure his fingers applied. It wasn’t a response she could control.

Nigel lowered her down on the mattress, then unfastened his toweling gown.

Mellanie giggled. “Nigel!”

“What did you expect?” he asked modestly. “I am the ruler of the galaxy, after all.”

“God, a man who altered his cock to match his ego.”

He grinned. “What makes you think I had it altered?”

Mellanie’s giggles returned big time. “I take it back, your ego is bigger.”

“Turn over.”

“Why?”

“Massage. To start with.”

“Oh.” She rolled onto her front. Oil that was body-warm was dripped onto her spine. He began to rub it in. “How did you know about the Cypress Island?” she asked.

“If I told you that you’ll just be cross with me. I want to have sex with you too much for that.”

“I won’t be cross.”

“You will. Why won’t you marry me?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone. I like this, this is fun. And I’d even enjoy joining in with your other wives. But as a permanent thing…That’s not me. Sorry.”

“Hey, I love it. Jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous.” Mellanie tried to twist around to protest, but his hands reached her buttocks. She had to clamp her teeth to stop squealing.

“What does the SI get out of your arrangement?” Nigel asked.

“God, is there anything you don’t know?”

“I don’t know that for a start.”

“It says it just wants to know what’s going on, that’s all. I can get into places where there’s no unisphere coverage.”

“Figures. So it knew about the nature of the Primes?”

“It found out at Randtown. It hacked into their communications through my inserts.”

“Goddamn thing never told us. Bastard.” Nigel moved down to her thighs.

“Do you think it’s hostile as well?”

“I think it’s a snob. I think it looks down on us as the lower-class neighbors bringing down the tone of the galaxy. It’s not actively belligerent, but like all snobs it has a fascination for what it’s not. Hence you, and others like you. It also has sentiment, which is why it helps us out on rare occasions. Yet it will always rationalize that as something else entirely: charity or consideration born of superiority. The trouble is, I don’t know if it would help us in the face of genocide. It probably doesn’t know either. I suspect it will play its waiting game until the end. And that’s going to be too late for us.”

“Is that why you decided to nova MorningLightMountain?”

“It’s among the reasons. Nobody else is going to help us out. Does it bother you, that decision?”

“I felt MorningLightMountain,” she said slowly. “I could hear its thoughts. My inserts were blocking its soldier motiles so I was physically safe, but I was still frightened. I don’t think we can share a universe with it. You know, it completely lacked emotion; I mean there was just no analogue in its mind to what we have. I was going to say that you can’t rationalize with it, but that’s the whole problem: it’s ultra-rational. There’s no way to connect. Even the SI couldn’t make it see logic and reason. It has to go, Nigel, that’s the only way we’ll be safe.”

“Turn over.”

She did as she was told. The heat had gone out of her now; remembering Randtown and the monstrous mentality of MorningLightMountain was a guaranteed passion killer. Then Nigel began working on her belly, and breasts, and thighs, and she forgot all that again amazingly quickly.

“So how did you know?” Mellanie asked.

“Huh?”

“About Cypress Island.”

“Ah.” Nigel rolled onto his belly to face her. “Michelangelo is my son, my fifteenth.”

“What? You’re kidding. He never told me.”

“It’s not something he’s proud of. Quite the opposite, actually. He stormed out when he was seventeen.”

“Wow. I bet that doesn’t happen often.”

“No,” he said dryly. “It was a classic teenage rebellion, he even said I’ll show you, when he left. Then he went and carved that career out for himself. I’m actually quite proud of him for that. Normally the black sheep come slinking back a century later with their tails between their legs, and get a nice safe middle management position in the Dynasty.”

“So he told you I was going to Illuminatus?”

“No. We didn’t understand what was going on, Mellanie. Which comes very hard for people like me and Nelson, especially at a time like this. I cut a deal with Michelangelo. He told me you were hunting the New York lawyers, so Nelson found them in the Saffron Clinic, and gave him the information. We wanted to know why they were important to you. After all, it had the appearance of just another Wall Street finance scam.”

“I’ll kill him.”

Nigel ran his hand through her wild hair. “I said you’d be cross.”

“With him! How can I trust him again after this?”

“You trusted a reporter?”

“Touché.”

“So I’m still favorite, am I?”

“You’re in my top hundred,” she replied airily.

“This is why I want you. You are so unlike any of the other girls I have.”

She traced his lips with her finger. “You need to get out more.”

“Say yes. Just try it for a couple of years. You can still have a career, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“It wouldn’t be my own career though would it, not really, not if I was your wife. I’d get all the openings and all the breaks, but not because of being me.”

“And the difference between that and having the SI as your agent is…?”

“Perhaps there is none,” she said quietly. “Perhaps I’m just tired of being a whore.”

“Nobody said you were a whore.”

“I said it.” Mellanie sighed, and crawled over the undulating mattress to reach her negligée. She grimaced at the snail-trail of oil she left behind on the fur.

“To reach here from where you were after Morton’s court case takes amazing determination,” he told her.

“I thought it was quite easy to get into your bed, actually.”

“I didn’t mean my bed, I meant here, this little cabal, or rebellion, whatever you want to call our motley crew. Don’t you see, what we’re going to decide in a few hours is going to determine the future of the human race. Not Doi. Not the navy. Not the Senate. Not the Dynasties. Us. You made it to the showdown. You’re going to be history, Mellanie; you’re going to be your generation’s Queen Elizabeth, or Marilyn Monroe, or Sue Baker. Don’t blink now.”

Mellanie looked down sheepishly at the negligée she was holding in her hands. She didn’t feel very historical. “I don’t know who any of them are.”

“Really? Oh. Well, the point is you went and earned yourself a place at the table. That’s why you’re so irresistible; you’re gorgeous and tough, every man’s fantasy. And mine in particular.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

She yawned. “I’d better get back. I don’t want Morty to wake up without me.”

“All right,” Nigel said miserably. “Just remember, it’s an open offer.”

“Thanks. It is tempting. Does it come with a place on your lifeboat if we all make the wrong decision?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “You get a reserved cabin with a first-class view.”

“Let me guess. Your cabin is next door.”

He spread his arms wide. “Where else?”

“Is there a shower in here? I need to get this oil off.”

Nigel leered, and climbed off the bed. “I’ll show you.”

“That’s not—oh, all right.”

He guided her toward a misty glass door that was glowing turquoise. “Tell me something. What do you see in Bose?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, uncomfortable with the question, which was stupid considering what they’d spent the last hour doing. “He was useful.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure. Do you think the memory transfer will work?”

“My e-butler says it seems to be running smoothly. We’ll know for sure after breakfast.”